


Indirect Proof

by kethni



Series: BST [4]
Category: Veep (TV)
Genre: Belligerent Sexual Tension, Cheating, Closeted Character, Drunk Sex, Flashbacks, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 14:08:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11715954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: When, eleven days later, he kissed Kent, Kent’s eyes had snapped open. Ben half expected Kent to be annoyed. He’d have preferred annoyed. Kent’s hurt and confusion at the kiss, just a little thing, twisted in Ben’s gut like a knife.





	Indirect Proof

**Author's Note:**

> As before, this diverts from canon regarding Ben's wife as I'd introduced her before we first saw Joyce on the show.

Jonah had mistletoe around his crotch, because a course he fucking had.

Ben grabbed a pair of scissors, stamped over to the idiot, cut off the mistletoe, and threw it in the trash.

‘If you do that again, I’ll keep the mistletoe and throw you away.’

Jonah’s rat-like eyes swivelled from Ben to Elizabeth and back again. ‘Yes sir, I will not do that again, Sir.’

Ben stamped away but didn’t hear Elizabeth following. He turned around and saw Elizabeth telling Jonah to change his hair, get rid of the vest, and just talk to women, if he wanted to get female interest.

‘Jesus, don’t help him,’ Ben said. ‘It’s better for women everywhere if he can’t pass muster as a normal human being.’

‘Hilarious, sir,’ Jonah said.

‘Shut up.’

Elizabeth rolled her eyes as they walked. ‘Ben, why are we here? You know I don’t care for politics and you would obviously rather be anywhere but here.’

He squared his shoulders. ‘We don’t do anything together. I figure we should do something together you know... fun.’

Elizabeth looked at the limp paper chains, wilting balloons, and bored staffers milling around as they waited for the alcohol to kick in.

‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘Next time I get to choose.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Ben said, looking around the room.

Elizabeth gave a small sigh. ‘Oh God. Again?’

Ben dragged his attention to her. ‘Huh?’

She shook her head. ‘Where are the drinks?’ she asked coldly.

‘What?’ Ben asked.

She spun on her heel and marched off to the punch bowl. Ben straightened his tie as he scanned the room. He saw POTUS, the VP, some senators, some congressmen – and women – and staffers. It took him a few minutes to see what, who, he was looking for.

Ben moved around, looking through the press of bodies for a better view.

‘Not that you deserve it,’ Elizabeth said, handing him a glass of punch.

‘Oh, thanks.’ Ben drained it in two gulps.

‘That was punch,’ she said. ‘It was probably forty per cent proof before three different interns spiked it with vodka.’

Ben shrugged. ‘As long as they only spiked it with booze.’ He smoothed back his hair. ‘Come on, I’ll introduce you to people.’

Her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘What people?’

‘Work people! You want to meet the president, don’t you? And the VP.’

‘Can I get his autograph?’

Ben took her arm and tugged her after him. ‘What? No, of course not.’

‘What about a selfie?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Since when are you interested in selfies?’

‘Since you told me I couldn’t have an autograph.’

***

 

_He hadn’t been able to look Kent in the face the first time. It was a quick, messy, unreciprocated handjob in Ben’s hotel room. The stuff of teenage fumbling. The first time Kent let Ben touch him, Ben couldn’t stop looking at him. Eyes closed. Lips parted. The very tip of Kent’s tongue touched the middle of his upper lip. Ben listened to Kent’s breathing. Watched his pulse beating in his throat._

_Ben hadn’t done what he wanted. Not then. Kent was twitchy enough. He didn’t like it when Ben touched him without warning. He acted like it was a trick. It had taken Ben weeks to get this far with him._

_When, eleven days later, he kissed Kent, Kent’s eyes had snapped open. Ben half expected Kent to be annoyed. He’d have preferred annoyed. Kent’s hurt and confusion at the kiss, just a little thing, twisted in Ben’s gut like a knife._

_‘What’s your problem?’ Ben asked._

_‘Nothing,’ Kent said._

_It was always like that. Kent pulled back. Flinched from just friendly affection. Wouldn’t ever explain what his problem was._

_Elizabeth brought the kids out to visit. Ben dragged them to a restaurant. A movie. Anything but have a conversation with them. When they got back to the hotel, he saw Kent and Hughes talking in the lobby. Ben’s stomach lurched when Kent looked in their direction._

_‘Are you going to introduce us?’ Elizabeth asked._

_‘No,’ Ben said. ‘We don’t want to talk to him. Boring fucker and he can’t make small talk to save his life.’_

_Elizabeth said something about swearing in front of the kids, but Ben didn’t notice. He was cringing from the expression on Kent’s face. He’d heard every word._

***

‘I thought he was gay.’

‘No, Mother, he’s bisexual.’

‘Ohh, that’s so interesting!’

Jesus. Ben looked over his shoulder at the Furlongs. They were openly staring at... So that’s where Mr Icicle Dick was hanging at.

Kent was stood by the food, next to a tall, dark woman who was either a hard-living forty or a well-preserved fifty.

She was practically inside his suit, that’s how close she was stood next to him. Kent had one arm around her waist.

It was enough to make a guy puke.

‘Who’s your friend?’ Elizabeth demanded.

Ben took a gulp of scotch. ‘Let’s go say hi.’

He heard her growl under her breath.

‘That isn’t what I meant,’ she said.

She was just ticked to be dragged around a party for his work. It had been years since she had made any pretence of being interested in his job. Why the hell should she, when he was the one going out, busting his hump to pay the bills and support the kids that she’d insisted on having. Ben wasn’t the one wanting a bigger house, a different car, or any of that shit.

Kent looked like Ben was as welcome as day old piss. His hand squeezed his date’s waist.

‘Hey,’ Ben greeted them, taking Elizabeth’s arm. She gave him a cold look.

‘Good evening,’ Kent said. ‘This is my friend, Jane.’

Ben didn’t much care for the way that Jane was leaning into Kent, or the way she rested her hand on top of Kent’s.

‘Hi,’ Ben muttered. ‘This is my wife, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, this is Kent Davison and his friend.’

‘The infamous Kent,’ Elizabeth said, unsmiling.

Kent’s shoulders tensed. ‘I hate to imagine what Ben might have told you,’ he said with a wry tone that startled Ben.

‘Oh, I never listen to what Ben says,’ Elizabeth said airily. ‘Every so often I hear him moaning and whining. Normally about you or... you-know-who.’ She flickered her eyes over to POTUS.

‘Ooh, gossip,’ Jane said, smiling.

Ben noticed she had a soft southern accent.

‘What do you do?’ Elizabeth asked her.

‘I work in the hospitality sector,’ Jane said.

Ben swirled his drink around in his glass. ‘So, you’re a hooker.’  

He didn’t know which part was worse; Elizabeth’s utter disgust, Jane’s amusement, or Kent’s bored dismissiveness.

‘Close,’ Jane said sweetly. ‘Hotels.’

‘Maid?’

‘Owner,’ Jane said. ‘Three hundred and sixty-four worldwide.’

‘That told you,’ Elizabeth said.

‘Inherited it from your daddy, did you?’ Ben asked.

Kent frowned. ‘What’s your problem?’

‘I don’t have a problem!’

‘He’s not drunk yet,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Any hint of sobriety makes him cranky.’ She gave Kent curt nod. ‘Excuse me, we should mingle.’

***

Elisabeth was swaying slightly. Ben tried to take her glass from her but she shot him a death glare.

‘We should go home,’ he said.

‘Why, aren’t you having _fun_?’ she spat.

‘Hey Ben, how’s it going?’

Oh, fuck. Meyer. Just who didn’t need to see. She was trying to be his buddy because she still figured he had an ‘in’ with POTUS. That’s how out-of-touch Meyer was.

‘Madam vice president,’ Ben said, trying to smile. ‘Have you met my wife, Elizabeth?’

‘Can I have a selfie?’ Elizabeth asked.

‘Oh God,’ Ben moaned.

‘Sure,’ Meyer said gamely. She posed for the picture and obviously took in Elizabeth’s inebriated state. ‘Are you having a good time?’

‘Sure,’ Ben said.

‘Not really,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Ben’s clearly panting after someone again. You have the right idea, Selina. Can I call you Selina?’

‘Uh –’

‘Your ex couldn’t keep it in his pants either, right?’ Elizabeth asked.

Ben covered his eyes.

‘Yeah, you got that right,’ Meyer said. ‘Andrew would bang any woman between eighteen and sixty.’

Elizabeth snorted. ‘I wish that was all I had to worry about. He –’

Ben grabbed her arm. ‘We need to go. The vice president doesn’t want to hear you rambling on.’

Elizabeth glowered at him and smiled sweetly at Selina.

‘He cheated on me all through the campaign, did you know?’ Elizabeth asked.

Meyer silently shook her head.

‘He thinks I didn’t know,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Well, I knew. Actually, I think they really made him work for it. That was something. It drove him a little nuts. And then they broke up with him! Oh, how he sulked and pouted.’

‘I’m sorry, she’s drunk,’ Ben said to Meyer.

‘Boy, I wonder why,’ Meyer said.

‘Now he’s at it again,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Right in front of me he was –’

‘Shut up!’

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. ‘He’s so pissed off because he...’

Ben dragged her away. He got her halfway across the room before she pulled her arm free.

‘I am going to the restroom!’ she announced.

‘You can do that at home!’

She at her eyes at him. ‘Oh, you’d like that.’

‘What does that mean?’ he asked her retreating back.

She didn’t answer, so Ben wandered over to the remains of the food.

Kent was examining a tray of curled sandwiches.

‘I wouldn’t eat those,’ Ben said.

‘There are a number of things you claim you wouldn’t do,’ Kent said. ‘Many of them you do while saying so.’

‘Well I’m not eating anything you’re holding,’ Ben said.

Kent gave him a dark look. ‘Where’s your wife?’

‘Where’s your date?’ Ben retorted.

‘ln the bathroom,’ Kent said.

‘Oh shit, so’s Elizabeth.’ Ben turned towards the door, as is that would help. ‘She just told Meyer that I had an affair during the campaign.’

Kent shrugged. ‘You did.’

‘No, I didn’t!’

A little flicker of warmth that Ben hadn’t even noticed in Kent’s face, faded.

‘Go away, Ben,’ he said.

‘She could tell your arm-candy stuff,’ Ben said.

‘One, she’s nobody’s “arm-candy,” and two, there’s nothing Elizabeth could tell her that would be important to Jane.’ Kent picked up a potato chip and nibbled it. ‘Unless you’ve been telling her a pack of lies.’

Ben stomped into Kent’s space, glaring.

‘What have you told her?’ he demanded. ‘Jesus, what is she going to tell Elizabeth?’

Kent rolled his eyes. ‘Will you make your mind up? Are you claiming that Jane is going to tell Elizabeth something or that Elizabeth is going to tell Jane something?’

Ben gritted his teeth. ‘I’m worried that they’ll talk and one of them will come up with some bullshit idea, like me having an affair. That’s what women do.’

Kent’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m going to ignore that misogyny as I can see that you are under a great deal of stress. However, it is stress entirely caused by your own woeful inability to face the truth, so my sympathy is extremely strained.’

Ben poked his chest. ‘It’s not ignoring it if you make a fucking little speech about how you’re ignoring it! And I’m not a misogynist.’

‘You’re doing a fabulous job of showing it.’

Ben turned. He knew the sound of Elizabeth’s heels as she stomped along the floor. She looked pissed, but she was drunk, so who the fuck knew what she was thinking or feeling. She gave Kent a completely filthy look and grabbed Ben’s arm.

‘Let’s go then,’ she said.

‘It was nice to meet you,’ Kent said with too much pity.

***

_They’d been celebrating. They’d all been celebrating; they’d won the election. Everyone was dancing and cheering and drinking._ _Kent tried to duck out early. Ben saw him sneak towards the door when he thought nobody was looking. But there was something about the ruffled grey hair, loosened tie, and untucked shirt that caught Ben’s attention even from the other side of the room. Ben helped himself to a couple of bottles of champagne and hurried after Kent. He had no plan. No scheme in mind. It was just instinct._

_Really._

_The cold air outside hit him like a fist, and Ben nearly didn’t see Kent getting into the cab._

_‘Wait up!’ Ben bellowed. He jogged over, holding the champagne under his arms._

_‘What’re you doing?’ Kent asked, as Ben climbed in the cab._

_‘Making sure you celebrate properly. Where are we going, your place?’_

_Kent stared at him before nodding. It was more than an answer to the question, it was a tacit agreement to Ben being there, to him coming home with Kent._

_Ben thought about opening one of the bottles, but they’d been shaken up too much to risk it in the cab, and besides Kent looked pensive now. He was staring out of the window. The reflected city lights played across his skin. His eyes were hazel, but in the soft and shifting light they looked almost black._

_‘You worry too much,’ Ben said._

_Kent blinked, torn away from whatever thoughts had been buzzing around his head._

_‘You don’t worry enough,’ he said. ‘Why do you assume I’m worrying?’_

_‘Because you’re breathing,’ Ben said. ‘You know what worrying achieves? Stress. That’s it. Planning might help, but worrying never did.’_

_He didn’t much like the way Kent looked at him without answering, or the way he returned to staring out of the window._

***

They didn’t talk in the Uber back home. Ben starred out of his window. Fucking Kent. He’d told that bitch god knows what. There wasn’t anything to tell her! Affair? What fucking affair? Okay, sure, Ben had screwed around in his time. He’d made mistakes. He’d done his fair share of it and more. But it didn’t mean anything. He wasn’t unfaithful. He didn’t have affairs. He hadn’t had affairs.

Fuck knew it was obvious that it didn’t mean anything to Kent. Frozen hearted iceberg fucker. Elizabeth made an unpleasant little noise. Ben glanced across at her. She made another noise. A gulp. Her shoulders were shaking.

Fuck. He hated it when she cried. He hated it when any woman cried, but her most of all.

Ben put his hand on her shoulder, his thick fingers tentative on her papery skin, aware of the bird-like bones beneath.

‘Don’t touch me!’ she snarled.

Ben dropped his hand.

***

_‘Don’t touch me,’ Kent said, that last morning._

_‘I wasn’t –’_

_‘Don’t,’ Kent said._

_‘What?’_

_‘I am tired of this. I am tired of you doing one thing and saying another. I’m tired of waiting for you to grow the fuck up.’_

_Ben threw up his hands. ‘I have no idea what that means.’_

_Kent stared at him coldly. The seconds stretched out long enough that Ben squirmed._

_‘I don’t know why I ever hoped for anything better from you,’ Kent said eventually._

_His tone was quiet, self-incriminating, and so utterly unhappy that Ben didn’t know what the fuck to say. That was the last time they spoke before Kent resigned._

***

Elizabeth wasn’t talking to him. Not in the “nothing to say,” way but in the passive-aggressive “pretending he didn’t exist,” way. It went on for days.

Maybe he should’ve talked first, tried to put her straight, but he was in no fucking mood. No mood for an argument. No mood for “affair” talk.

Kent was busy trying to keep Meyer from fucking up any more than she absolutely had to, which apparently was a metric fucktonne. Ben watched him strutting around like he was cock of the walk. That little ass going past just at the right height to... But Kent didn’t have a sense of humour worth a damn and he loathed pranks. He was always weird about being touched as well. Even when Ben was sure he liked it, he got twitchy about it.

‘You and Judy should come to dinner,’ Ben said. He was in the doorway to Kent’s office, watching him do stretches.

‘Her name is Jane, as you’re very well aware,’ Kent said. ‘And I have no desire to do that. Don’t ask.’

Ben wasn’t looking at Kent’s long legs, and he especially wasn’t looking at the thighs he knew lurked inside that staid grey suit.

‘Why not? It’s what people do. It’s what normal, boring people do.’

Kent adjusted his tie and his collar. ‘I can’t think of a more compelling reason not to do it, except that you would be there.’

Ben folded his arms. ‘I know Elizabeth was drunk. Don’t take anything she said too seriously.’

Kent shook his head. ‘This is precisely what I expect from you. I say that my problem is with you, and you pretend I said the problem was your entirely blameless wife.’

‘Your lady still talking to you?’ Ben asked.

Kent raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m not the one who was boorish and rude,’ he said. ‘Nor have I lied to her.’

Ben slammed the door shut. ‘Keep your voice down!’

‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ Kent said. ‘She was going around telling people that you’d had an affair. What can I possibly be overheard saying that would be worse than that?’

Ben strode over and waved his finger at him. ‘She was drunk! Nobody would take that seriously.’

Kent gazed at him. ‘Ben, she clearly knows a good deal more than you believe. Isn’t it past the time that you were honest with her?’

‘What the fuck are you talking about? She’s got a bug up her butt about nothing. I’ll sort out my wife. You mind your damn business.’

Kent shook his head. ‘Your refusal to face facts is astonishing even for a man as desperately in denial as you are.’

Ben bared his teeth as he growled. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘I am tired of humouring you,’ Kent said quietly. ‘Clearly you have no intention of coming to terms with your sexuality.’

‘Shut up!’ Ben hissed.

‘If you cannot be honest with your wife then at least be faithful to her,’ Kent snapped. ‘That is the barest minimum that you owe to her.’

Ben’s hands closed into fists. ‘This again.’

‘This again,’ Kent said with a sneer. ‘Because I was stupid enough to believe you when you said your marriage was over. Because I wanted to believe the most blatant lie in the philanderer’s handbook.’ Kent took a breath. ‘Because you used me.’

Ben took a step back. ‘Bullshit.’

Kent put his hands on his hips. ‘You’re not the first,’ he said tiredly. ‘You used me to find out if you wanted to be with a man. Just like you’re using Elizabeth to pretend that you don’t.’

Ben felt the sweat trickling down the back of his neck. ‘Shut up,’ he said, so angry that his breath was coming hard. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Kent gave a sigh. ‘You have no idea what a cliché you are, Ben. I’ve seen it all before. We all have. I’m sure by now you’ve already filled your computer with badly made porn. Are you sneaking out to clubs, or is that too risky? Do you stalk Grindr, Growlr, and message boards, sending furtive messages that you pretend don’t mean anything when really you’re building up your nerve?’

‘You don’t know me,’ Ben said.

Kent was messing around with something on his desk. ‘I wish I didn’t.’ He looked at Ben, and the coldness in his eyes evaporated. ‘Ben, you need to sit down.’

‘Fuck you,’ Ben gasped.

‘You look terrible!’

‘I’m having a fucking panic attack or something.’

Or something. Kent knew exactly what the “or something” was. It was clear from his face.

Kent grabbed the phone. ‘We need an ambulance. Mr Cafferty is having a heart attack... Yes, again. Be quick.’

Ben pawed at his collar. Kent put down the phone and perched on the desk near Ben. His long fingers unknotted Ben’s tie and slid it free. Then he unbuttoned Ben’s collar.

‘I think you should be on the floor,’ Kent said quietly.

Ben grabbed his hand. ‘Don’t... don’t go...’

‘I’m going nowhere,’ Kent said.

‘Good.’

‘Why do you keep having health issues in front of me?’ Kent asked.

‘Twice isn’t a habit,’ Ben gasped.

Kent rolled his eyes. ‘It’s a remarkable coincidence.’

‘Not so much,’ Ben said. ‘I’m overweight, drink too much, and take no exercise.’

Kent was trying to smile but his eyes were panicked.

‘That does make sense when you put it like that,’ he agreed.

The door was thrown open as the White House doctor arrived. Kent stood up. Ben’s hand slipped from his grip.

***

_Ben opened the first bottle of champagne in the kitchen. The liquid spurted out across his fingers, and splattered into the sink, it’s initial exuberance spent so quickly. Ben gulped straight from the bottle and turned to Kent. The other man was watching him, just watching. The cat had hissed and spat at Ben before running under the couch._

_Ben held the bottle out to Kent. He half expected Kent to pour a glass, and then sip carefully. Instead, Kent drank straight from the bottle. He kept eye contact with Ben the entire time. Ben moved closer, close enough to take the bottle and have another long, deep drink._

_There was a glimmer of moisture on Kent’s lower lip. A drop of champagne that had escaped. Ben leaned in and caught the droplet on the tip of his tongue._

_Kent’s eyes narrowed slightly as Ben leaned back. He licked his lips, chasing the warmth of Ben’s touch._

_Ben put the bottle on the countertop._

_‘Why’re you here?’ Kent asked._

_‘Being friendly,’ Ben said._

_‘It’s late. We’ve both been awake for almost two days. We’ve both drunk far too much.’ Kent paused to take another drink of champagne. He smiled ironically and saluted Ben with the now empty bottle. ‘I don’t have the patience for your bullshit.’_

_Ben smirked. ‘You kiss your mom with that mouth?’_

_‘She’d say worse.’_

_‘Yeah?’_

_‘Yes,’ Kent said. His pupils were flared. He was looking into Ben’s eyes and at his mouth. ‘She wouldn’t show you the patience I have either.’_

_‘I’m not the one who keeps running away.’_

_‘You really believe that,’ Kent said. ‘Astonishing.’_

_Ben kissed him. it was a tentative kiss, cautious, and careful._

_‘Don’t do that,’ Kent said._

_Ben reached for the other bottle of champagne. He opened the bottle more easily, and took several deep gulps._

_‘Why not?’ Ben asked._

_‘You’re married,’ Kent said._

_‘That’s nothing new.’ Ben kissed him again, more forcefully._

_‘I can’t keep doing this. If you weren’t married, if you were out…’_

_‘Your fucking beard,’ Ben said. ‘How does anyone deal with it?’_

_Kent took the bottle. One, two, three deep gulps, with his eyes closed._

_‘Nobody asked you to,’ Kent said. ‘I asked you not to.’_

_‘You want to be persuaded,’ Ben said. ‘Don’t whine when I do.’_

_Kent shook his head. ‘It’s not persuasion to do something I asked you not to.’_

_‘Put it on your big list of things you hate about me,’ Ben said. He picked up the bottle of champagne by the neck and walked to the door._

_‘Where are you going?’ Kent asked._

_‘Bedroom,’ Ben said. ‘Feel free to stand around worrying for five minutes before you come upstairs any way.’_

***

Noise. Smell. Heat. The sudden wall of sensation resolved slowly into the sound of people talking and alarms bleeping, the bite of disinfectant, and the creeping warmth of the blanket.

Ben blinked slowly. The lizard part of his brain, all instinct and primeval drive, told him that there was someone next to the bed, just out of view. He didn’t see a hand, but he inched his hand along the covers, hoping for the comfort of touch.

‘I’ll tell the nurse you’re awake.’

‘Elizabeth?’

She stepped into his eye line. ‘Were you expecting someone else?’

Ben tried to shake his head. It felt as if it might fall off. He reached for her hand. She pulled it away.

‘I’ll talk to the nurse,’ she said.

‘What crawled up your butt?’ he muttered.

‘Your friend called.’

He almost asked, the name almost slipped off his tongue, but he caught himself in time.

‘Who?’ he asked.

‘Ryan,’ she spat it out. ‘He’s lost patience with you. _Apparently,_ you keep arranging to meet him and bailing.’

Ben stared at her blankly. ‘Who the fuck is Ryan?’

She lowered her voice. The boy you’ve been sexting.’

Ben had to close his eyes against the lurching, revolving world. ‘That was... that was...’

‘A joke?’ Elizabeth suggested. ‘A mistake? Research? Aren’t those the standard excuses? At least the one you were fucking during the campaign was _discreet_. What happened to him, did he get fed up with your tiny penis, uninspired foreplay, and general selfishness?’

Ben swallowed a couple of times. ‘I don’t know what –’

Elizabeth shook her head. ‘You just nearly died on the operating table,’ she said. ‘I just told you that I _know_ , Ben. _I know_. But you still can’t be honest about who are. If we didn’t have the kids I’d leave you too.’

Ben watched Elizabeth. The kids were pretending they weren’t bored. Hospitals were boring, especially for little kids. She’d been angry before. Now she just seemed tired. She hadn’t said anything else to him. She barely looked at him.

When Ben was tired, and the kids were no longer able to pretend interest, she took them home. She didn’t say when they’d be back. She didn’t kiss his cheek. No checking what he needed. No promises to do this or that.

No goodbye.

***

_They didn’t have an argument. He could’ve understood that. An argument would have felt like an ending. It would’ve felt like he mattered._

_Ben had called Elizabeth while he was dressing, and told her he was on his way home. Kent had closed his eyes and turned away. He wouldn’t let Ben give him a kiss goodbye. When he reached for Kent’s shoulder, Kent pushed him away. He told Ben that he didn’t know why he’d expected anything better._

_So, Ben went home, and when he started his first day as White House chief of staff, the brand-new President Hughes told him that Kent had quit. Gone. No forwarding address, no working telephone number no leaving party._

_No goodbye._

The end.

 


End file.
